C o u r a g e
This Poppy talked to me
About giving, about courage
as it made its home in a crack in a wall,
which surrounded a church.
A village church
800 hundred years old, so I am told.
The brave Poppy seed liked the warmth,
the peace and the sun.
Found enough earth and settled down.
Now, here I stand and feel deep harmony
as the Poppy’s fragile petals gently move in the breeze.
Its joyful colours smile.
What light it brings.
© miriam ivarson
MORNING DEW
Hibiscus greeted me this morning
Dressed in a glittering crystal veil
Gentle pearls of water
formed a gown sublime.
In reverence, with joyful heart
I drank its beauty in
Said my thanks for lifting,
Lifting my heart and spirit high.
c/ miriam ivarsoon
Hidden Wings
This morning as the sun arose
I saw a little bird fly in,
blessing my garden with its grace.
It fed among flowers and seeds
without hurry or greed,
leaving enough for the friends.
Suddenly he hopped up to my patio door,
turned his head side to side, studying me;
I was feeding too.
I could hear him tweet, you can also fly,
your wings are hidden within.
Just trust and you will rise;
Higher each time.
I tried this once before, when I was a girl,
I thought my arms too thin, no wings at all.
Now I wonder, does he mean my spirit wings?
Could I soar and dip and swing
if I trust the wings within.
Why don’t we all give it a try.
© miriam ivarson
Can You Hear
Can you hear them. Million voices
calling out in fear and pain,
Can you feel their agony;
Their loss of hope and faith.
Can you hear them calling
as sickness sweeps the world;
As bombs drop and missiles fly.
Can you hear their pain?
Can you see them,
the suffering and dispossessed?
Can you tell why it should be so?
Words turn to a trickle, a whisper
As another tragedy hits mankind, the Earth.
Is it then wrong to remember, we only have here and now,
so let us hear the flowers sing sweetly
part of nature’s orchestration.
May one day we hear the million voices sing;
Singing songs of freedom and joy.
Call me a dreamer if you wish, so be it.
© miriam ivarson
Oceans and Seas
How you enchant me, bewitch;
With your song so powerful and true
at times whispering sweet
at times roaring with incredible might.
This day you decided to play
Orchestrate every pebble on a shingle beach,
As each wave rolled them towards the shore
then withdrew, returning again.
And again, and again,
hypnotizing and bewitching tunes.
Today you were playful, I was grateful
as this was my first trip out, in a year and a half;
The joy to meet again was beyond words.
With your friend, the wind, you can cause
Hurricanes, tsunamis but also gently roll,
Tickle my toes along the surf.
I love you ocean and sea, thanks for still being you,
Powerful, yet kind.
© miriam ivarson
Where does time go
does it go, is our perception askew?
What if time just is? Always there.
Moving like the clouds, like the waves
Being always time, sky and sea.
What about us? Are we just living linear
or are we fluent too?
Always part of the Stars, the Universe, Earth,
living all the time.
Don’t let us limit ourselves with numbers and dates.
Live in peaceful meditation or stormy dance
in Love, always in Love.
With tears when they come and smiles of a child.
© miriam ivarson
Age Old Song
I walked down to the harbour today
drawn by the scent of the sea;
Before me I saw a scene of life and strength.
Trawlers had arrived back
from their week long work at sea,
from fishing and other lands.
Laughter, strength and sheer vitality;
Filled the air with age old song.
I loved it down there, watching and listening
keeping myself out of the way.
My father knew where I was and gave me a wink,
came and lifted me to the sky.
They loved their work, these men of the sea,
it was hard but they were strong and free.
Their stories fascinated me.
As the men withdrew to BOA,
a centre for repairing nets and making new,
for sharing news and laughs, bellyfuls.
It was also where the Storyteller held forth.
Fantastic stories and wisdoms held all enthralled,
as hands flew at tasks and laughter rose.
In the homes women happily worked,
cooking and singing;
Their men were safely home.
At BOA work and stories paused
as husbands and fathers longed
for their women, children. For home.
Happy as a bird I walked home
my little hand in pappas hand, so strong and safe.
Reaching home my mamma held her arms outstretched,
pappa lifted her up and walking around
sang her a song of love and fun;
A song all his own.
All five chicks following them around
waiting patiently for their turn.
Such joy reigned in our abode.
© miriam ivarson
THE MANTLE
Write, my friend, write
Let your heart pour forth,
with honesty tell your truth.
May your words always be interspersed
with threads of gold,
weaving life, shining into your thoughts.
Into your woven cloth.
With silver moon beams,
Do the same
let them shimmer in dark corners,
lighten your mind.
These threads of gold and silver rays
Represent love and hope;
Without, your cloth will dull and die.
Once created, keep it as your mantle,
Your blanket;
So you will never forget,
The importance of light
© miriam ivarson
THE COIN
I saw a coin, inscribed FEAR
Lying there in the mud,
I picked it up and felled
tears of sadness for mankind.
Turning the coin around a wonder happened
my tears washed the mud away,
It now shone and said HOPE.
This is what I now wish for you and me
Hope in good for Earth and us.
© miriam ivarson
Unravelling Emotions
I am in shock with all this relaxation
my friend said to me this morning;
Startled I thought, how could that be?
Could all the tight knots have unravelled too fast,
causing emotions to swing – all lose;
Even a bit giggly or softly smiling
As again she could feel, happiness and breeze.
It took a long gentle sleep filled with dreams,
Dreams of clouds forming shapes in the sky
of walks on soft sand along the sea.
No frightening numbers filled the morning today,
just joy of being, simply being alive.
To see white doves on neighbours roof
and small birds busy feeding in the garden,
On feeders my friend filled last night.
© miriam ivarson
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